Part One: Destroying a Mind
by nauta iupiter
Summary: The death of one of their own, leads Schwartz to exact the worst kind of revenge on Weiss... (yaoi, AyaxKen, violence, angst, death, rape, murder)
1. Prologue: The Death of a Beast

Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine, if they were I might be able to pay for college....  
  
Pairings: AyaxKen, maybe more... dunno yet ^_~  
  
Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, death, angst, psychotic characters... um.. yeah this sure is gonna be a joy ride... (note how that just drips sarcasm)  
  
"Part one: Destroying a Mind"  
By Nauta Iupiter  
  
"Prologue: The Death of a Beast"  
  
A shot rang out, shattering the unearthly serenity of the darkened night. Its brief, yet blinding light, illuminated instantly those, who clung to the shadows, crouched low, waiting for their moment to strike. It was a warning from their blackened protector, a signal that they were not alone; The enemy was drawing nearer.  
  
A silver ray of moonlight bounced off the metalic blade of the hunter, as he crept forth from his cocoon of blackness toward his prey. He moved with the grace of the night itself, born of years of intamacy and understanding, even his buckled boots betrayed no sound.  
  
He was a hunter of the darkness and yet just as much a creature of it as they. However, he let the desolate void embrace him, flurished in the solitude and comfort it provided, and in this he had the upper hand.   
  
Faintly, he heard the sound of the others moving out behind him, in persuit of their own beasts, as he crept forward towards his target. He thought little on them, his focus rivited on the white haired man ahead.  
  
In a flash he lept up, his katana raised above his head. His hair, the color of drying blood, clung to his ivory skin as the wind moved about him, around him, through him, as if he was just an illusion, a shadow in the night. With a silent cry, he brought the razor edge down upon the wild beast, slicing him through, no remorse, no regret showing in his narrowed orbs.  
  
An animalstic scream echoed off the concrete pilars of the forsakened wharehouse, bounding back in horrific clarity. The pungent smell of death hung in the air. Someone was going to die.  
  
Farfarello looked up into the violet eyes of the Bringer of Death, his want to strike out, tear the man apart, beatened only by the weakness in his limbs, as his life dripped away like red rain from his chest.   
  
So, this was how it ended. He was to die at the hands of Weiss, his weak and unqualified enemy. How... ironic and yet bitterly anticlimatic. The crazed Irishman chuckled with his dying breath. God sure had a sense of humor.  
  
Aya stood, his katana, stained with the life of yet another beast, hanging at his side. He sensed more than heard his team surround him, unsuccessful in their attemps, their bodies torn and battered, as they quietly looked upon the body of a once deadly foe.  
  
Just as they were about to turn away, to leave another night of killing at their backs, a criptic and cold voice snaked out from the shadows.  
  
"Another Berserker will rise up and take his place."  
  
And with that, all was silent.  
  
TBC  
  
Notes:  
Yeah, that was Crawford who said that at the end, he could be just saying that as an assumption or know it as a fact, never know with Psycho... er... PsychIC boy.  
  
Hn. Well, at least the damn prologue is done. I know, I know, it's kinda short *shrugs* but I guess you can say it makes up for the rest of this fic. I see it being a four parter (and I don't mean chapters), more like four fics. o.O I hope you guys liked it so far, please tell me what you think, k? It gives me a "happy" ^_~ 


	2. Chapter One: The Kiss

~*~Margarita: Thank you! Wow... *blushes* what a nice little peppy review. That definately got me in a happy mood. ^_^ ~*~ Yaoke: Hiya. ^_^ *hugs* Thanks for the review... and wow... it was so sweet and inspiring... I'm getting choked up *sniffles* Thanks again. ^_^ ~*~ --__-_-_-_--+=+=: Nice name ^_~ But sorry I pissed you off.. eep... I'll make up for it, or at least I'll try. Really, I do like Farfie. ~*~ Siberian: Sorry, I didn't write more as fast as you may have liked, but you definately were a driving factor for getting it out as quickly as I could. Thanks. ^_^ ~*~ Siryn13: Heh, well I hope you like this chapter, it's not as dark, though. Still, thank you very much for your nice reply. ~*~ Saiai Yohji: Yeah, the shortness... I didn't like that much either. This chapter is longer though, but then I spent some time on it and drew it out more. ^_^ What can I say, I get eager to get to certain plot points and seem to rush it along. ~*~ Romilly McAran: Eep... you'll have your revenge, kinda of. Just wait and see what happens. ^_^   
  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine... really I swear they aren't, but if you insist....  
  
Warnings: Death, angst, psychopathic, lemon, rape, um... that about covers it I think.   
  
Pairings: AyaxKen/KenxAya and a few others, but I'm not going to tell, 'cause that'd be cheating. ^_____^  
  
Spoilers: Aya-chan (sort of), Ran's Takatori obsession, *shrugs* I don't know... you do know they work at a flower shop, right?  
  
Death Count: Farfie so far *sniffs* (yes, I do like him, but he had to go for the story to have a plot, sorry!)  
  
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to Jin, Deena, Portia, and Ana and Gal. Without your wonnderful Ranken fics to inspire me, I would never have had the patience nor the drive to write my own. Perhaps, one day, I'll be lucky to be as good as any of you. Thank you.   
  
"Part 1: Destroying a Mind"  
"Chapter One: The Kiss"  
By Nauta Iupiter  
  
  
2 Months Later  
  
The dust danced. Twirling and whirling in the beams of light from the large windows that lined the walls, giddy and free in the new spring day. It danced downward, admist the heads of the many giggling school girls, unseen, yet happy in its blessed obscurity. It was everything, the skin of a man, the pollen of a flower. Everything and nothing. It just was, and it flourished in its solitude of warmth and light.  
  
Aqua eyes watched it, transfixed by the delicate simplicity of it all, longing desperately to just fade away and be happy like the twirling particles. One by one they cascaded down, shimmering in the golden rays of the sun. They began to speed up at a dizzying pace, a blur of sparkles, twisting and bending in desperate flight, as if trying to escape a terrifying adversary. And, in a flash of white, they were gone, and the emptiness of the white mass remained, bringing bitter cold and sorrow in place of joy and light.  
  
Ken blinked. The object of disturbance was so familiar, so desired, and so achingly untouchable. The small bones of a slender, pale wrist, gliding smoothly into long, almost feminine fingers, with oddly placed roughness from many years of holding a sword that made it distinctively male, accosted his vision. Ironic, how a hand of all things, could be untouchable. That which governs tactile senses, so far removed from the realm of tangibility.   
  
The soccer player didn't even dare hope to reach out and feel the ghostly digits of the wintry hand before his eyes; to clasp those long tapering fingers within his own. To do so would be futile, for, like always, the hand would disappear and he'd be left, exposed and broken, his heart torn to pieces.  
  
It was hard to love ice, when you were fire. For, every time you tried to get close to the object of desire, it would, instinctively melt away.  
  
Aya cleared his throat, hoping to get the young man's attention. It had been bad enough the boy had been staring off into space when there were so many customers to help, but to have him come out and then retreat back into la-la land was worse. What could be so interesting about his hand anyway? The redhead shrugged the thought away. To him, it was just a tool, a way to wield his katana and strike down his foe and nothing more. He was most surely not in love with the appendage.   
  
He coughed again, still failing in his efforts to gain some sort of recognition or response from the aqua eyed teen. Violet eyes narrowed in frustration, his patience wearing thin, and the redhead lost all semblance of control and polite forewarning, and just acted as he had intended. Learning forward, he brought his chilled lips to the unprepared warm ones of his alleged "boyfriend" in a soft and passionless kiss.  
  
Ken gasped, startled violently from all coherent thought as those lips, the ones that haunted his dreams so many nights, met his own. Dark lashes fluttered against tanned cheeks, as the boy leaned into the embrace, taking it from intentioned necessity to unprepared desire.  
  
Where there was once just a bare touching of lips, tongues now battled, and teeth now nibbled at puffy, pinkish silk. Hands, that had remained motionless at their owners' sides, came up and slid over the ripples of lean muscles, over the cotton straps of aprons, to entangle in soft strands of hair at the napes of necks, clutching at each other desperately like to a life line. A moan, a whimper, a whisper of a name, all swallowed by each other's mouths.   
  
Aya found the once passionless act full of fire and lust, an inferno of nerves and a tangle of emotions and tongues, and oh so wonderfully sweet. If anything it was too real. He was losing himself in the brunette and oddly enough, he didn't care. Mission be damned, this was all he wanted, all he needed. His body seemed to scream for more, more of the kisses, more of the tastes, more of the caresses, and especially... more of Ken. Wrapping his arms around the warm and agile form of his pseudo-lover, Aya leaned against the counter and crushed their entire bodies together in perfect symmetry, feeling every inch of himself consumed by this inexplicable spark of passion.  
  
A sudden high pitched noise, followed promptly by a crash, and then a dull thud, broke the all consuming moment and the perfect world of the kiss was shattered. The two seperated, though reluctantly, the string of saliva trailing from one mouth to the other their only remaining link, to inspect the cause; well one to inspect. the other was too far gone to think on anything other than the mind numbing tingle running down his entire body.  
  
It seemed, to ever scrutinizing amethyst eyes as they scanned the shop, a tongue along the way unconsciously darting out to taste the last traces of Ken, that the kiss had been a catalyst to a whole mess of odd, yet not completely unfathomable, events. The center of which being a girl, who lay unconscious on the floor, obviously just as unprepared for the public display of possessiveness and lust as the soccer player had been. She was just unfortunate in that she did not have a strong male warpped around her to keep her from fallig as Ken had. Near-by, a girl stood, jaw slack, mough open, eyes wide, and a finger pointing absently forward. Evidently, she was the screamer. As for the crash, it took a trail of broken glass for Aya to surmise what had happened there, a trail that led to a very wide eyed Youji. Leave it to the Playboy to be shocked despite knowing the mission parameters.  
  
Sighing and shooing all the murmuring school girls out of the shop to close up early for the day, on the basis that they had an unforeseen emergency, Omi was left to tend to the still dazed girl sprawled upon the floor, as Youji swept up the glass, and Aya gathered Ken's scattered wits.  
  
"Ken?" the deep, icy voice called. A cold, pale hand came up to take hold of the boy, but stopped in its path, indecisive for a second, and then suddenly moved forth and slapped the stunned soccer player rather harshly across the cheek, leaving a dark burst of red in its wake. It was rougher than it ought to have been, but Aya was feeling rather annoyed at the other male for slipping away again. That and his entire body and carefully masked emotions were in utter turmoil from the kiss. He was lashing out, trying to regain some hold on the bitter, frigid world he knew, and Ken, being the indirect cause of the whole thing, was the most obvious victim to vent upon.  
  
"Huh...? Aya?" Ken managed, his voice seeming just as lost as the rest of him. His aqua eyes were focused on nothing, as if he was trapped somewhere within his own mind, as if he didn't recognize anything. Even as he brought his hand up to rub away the sting, he seemed completely dazed.  
  
"Gomen, Ken..." the redhead apologized, his fingers tenderly sliding along the now bruised cheek in almost regret, though he did not move to explain himself. In his own mind, his actions were just, no matter how twisted they may seem, but he could not help nor explain the ache buried deep in his chest at seeing such a mark mar golden perfection.  
  
Suddenly, Ken was back. Oh, his body had been sitting there, upon the counter, the entire time, but it was his awareness that had finally returned, and in full force. He was pissed off beyond words, too. Why was Aya toying with him? Kissing him, slapping him, and then touching him like that? Did the redhead know... how he felt? Did he... did he find this to be some fun, twisted game? All blue faded from his eyes, as green fire lapped at the sides and the former J-Leaguer tore himself away from the hand and the man he had always yearned for.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed, his body tense and ready to pounce like the Tiger he was so aptly named for, as he backed away.  
  
Violet eyes widened at the sudden change in demeanor, but quickly narrowed. Well, at least the kid wasn't staring off into space anymore, but his temper sure had a quick fuse. Aya knew that temper well, having been on the wrong end of it since day one. Standing up from where he'd been crouching next to Ken, he dropped his hand to his side, clenching and unclenching his fingers in a mix of barely controlled fury and regret.  
  
"Ken..." the one, known only by his sister's name, growled back in warning, anger levels rising up to meet the brunette's, as he advanced slowly. Even he, the Iceman, could not help but feed off such passion. Ken often wore his emotions on his sleeve, but when upset, he practically radiated them, charging the air around him, so that it seemed all who breathed it in where altered to reflect those feelings as well.  
  
"What? What the fuck do you want, Ay-ya?" the green eyed boy sing-songed, mocking his leader, as he tried to subtly get away. As he took another step back, he found he could go no further. He was backed into a corner, no way out but through the man he adored.   
  
Ken panicked. His eyes wide, darting left to right, like a caged animal, scared and desperate. Not now, not here... he had to get away before Aya saw him break down. As it was, the anger he was displaying was barely enough to keep the tears at bay. He couldn't let the other man see it, couldn't let him know how much power he held over him. Couldn't let him know that he...  
  
But before he could find an exit, he was pinned to the wall, hands trapped above his head by a strong grip to his wrists, stopping any thoughts of escape. As that lean body was pressed again so intimately and perfectly against his own, escape was the furthest thing from Ken's mind. He could barely find the ability to breath, let alone the will to flee.  
  
"Remember the serial killer, Ken? The one who rapes and murders only young, gay men? And how you and I were to act as bait to draw this guy out? I'm sorry if the kiss startled you... I tried to warn you, but you left me no choice. But now, it's safe to say that the whole city knows you and I are "lovers", based on how quick a schoolgirl's tongue is. So, we'll never have to do that again, ok?" The redhead rasped out, his cool breath sending the mess of brown bangs of the boy trappped against him into a flurry of motion. It was taking every ounce of self control he had not to press his lips to the forehead of said boy, run his tongue down his battered cheek and slowly slide it into that warm, delicious mouth.  
  
Ken nodded dumbly and let out a pathetic, little whimper, still terrified of Aya and his proximity. Despire being desperately in love with the man, he had the common sense to be afraid of him. Aya was dangerous, and there was no telling what he'd do at times.  
  
His heart sank though, at the realization that it had just been an act. He had hoped, rather foolishly, that it was something else. God, how he wanted to cry so badly just then, but he had to stay strong, seem pissed off, or he'd lose it. Aya couldn't know, especially not now, because a rejection after all of that would simply crush him.  
  
Aya sighed and let the brunette's wrists go, having no excuse to keep him captive, and knowing that anymore contact would be dangerous. He was hard enough as it was, and his control had nearly slipped when that whimper had escaped Ken's mouth. It had brought to mind too many pictures and ways of getting Ken to whimper like that again, all of which, though pleasurable, were simply not allowed. Ken was Weiss, and Weiss was simply a way to get at Takatori.  
  
Dejected violet eyes watched sadly as the soccer player sped up the stairs and out of sight, nearly tripping in his haste to get away. Really though, was he that bad? Despite his resolve that Ken meant nothing to him, that frighten, little childlike look he had seen reflected in aqua depths, put there because of him, hurt. That lost look in Ken's eyes haunted him for the rest of the night.  
  
TBC...  
  
  
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Oi. It took me so long to write that, and I still don't like it. *sighs* I have come to the conclusion that I'm a terrible writer. I seem to rush things way too much. And it really sucks when people have only nice things to say about the Prologue... Perhaps this is why I rarely do chapter fics, the pressure of living up to expectations is pretty icky. _ 


	3. Chapter Three: The Capture

~*~Jin~*~ You read my fic... and you liked it? *faints dead away* What an honor! *bows* I LOVE your work... "Find Me Love" will forever be one of my favorites, and it saddens me that you had to take it down! *hugs*  
~*~Erfacie*~* Thank you! I don't like it because all I ever see are flaws, I'm obsessive *giggles* but thank you very much for liking it and for saying so... it means a lot to me!  
~*~Wildfire~*~ Sorry this took so long *winces* I'm glad you are getting so into it, and again my apologies. I just couldn't find the time nor the drive to work on this.  
~*~Chaos and Chosmos ~*~I'm sorry you don't like my version of Ken *sighs* Everyone has their own interpretation I guess, and Ken is very much like me. So, I tried to see how I would react in such situations. Yes Ken is hot tempered, but he's madly in love with Aya, so he is a tad OOC around him. I hope I live up to your views in later chapters, and that if I don't, it doesn't deter from the overall story. I am glad you like it and like Aya. ^_^  
~*~Kia~*~ I'm glad you like ^_^ And yeah, Aya is a poohead, but that's why we like him, ne? ^_~  
~*~Melle~*~ I like that you like *giggles* And I'm keepin it goin' slowly but surely. ^_^  
~*~Galford340~*~ Update? What's that?! LOL... sorry for the delay, but that's for bitchin' me out.. got my lazyass in gear ^_~.  
~*~Rurouni Valeria~*~ Favorites? This is one of your favorites?! *hyperventilates* Thank you soooooooooooo much!!!! Gah, now I feel so much pressure. I hope you still continue to feel that way!  
  
Disclaimer: *singing way off-key* All I want for Christmas are my Ran~Ken... my Ran~Ken... ack... oh well... not mine.. but my two front teeth are...  
  
Warnings: Death, angst, psychopathic, lemon, rape, um... that about covers it I think.   
  
Pairings: AyaxKen/KenxAya and a few others, but I'm not going to tell, 'cause that'd be cheating. ^_____^  
  
Spoilers: Aya-chan (sort of), Ran's Takatori obsession, *shrugs* I don't know... you do know they work at a flower shop, right?  
  
Death Count: Farfie so far *sniffs* (yes, I do like him, but he had to go for the story to have a plot, sorry!)  
  
Dedication: I can't believe I forgot to mention one of the most excellent writers in my last chapter... MARTY-SAMA!!!! This woman is not only a fantastic and imaginative writer, but a wonderful person as well. I am honored to be friends with such brilliance, and I suggest everyone to go read her fics, and quick! Love ya Marty! ^_^  
  
  
"Part 1: Destroying a Mind"  
"Chapter Two: The Capture  
By Nauta Iupiter  
  
Next Morning…  
  
"Ken…" the word tumbled softly from parched lips just as the sun seemed to fall awkwardly into the day. Even in the bursting light, the night was not yet dispelled, as it and its secrets whispered gently into the waking dawn.   
  
Remember…  
  
The fading moon seemed to chant, its crescent shape growing dimmer with each passing second.  
  
Remember….  
  
And yet, the memories only seemed to strengthen even as the almost audible voice began to fade. How could one forget something that shook their very soul?  
  
The moon was gone, the sun shined high, and Aya remembered. The kiss, the fight, and most of all the pain, it was hard to ignore the pain. It seemed to stab at his chest with every beat of his heart, with every well guarded breath. He had hurt Ken, but worse, the soccer player was no where to be seen, and that fact was making the seemingly easy task of sweeping difficult to manage.   
  
Had he chased him away with his well seeming plans? Was he the cause of any further pain to his… no… just Ken? He wasn't allowed to love, wasn't allowed to own anything other than his sword and his hatred. There was no place in his life for love. And yet the pain, and the guilt continued until all that was left was the clattering of the broom as he rushed out the door.  
  
***  
  
The wind was cold, an icy breeze in the blackness of the alley, a bitter and unforgiving lover, sweeping through the trash in total disregard for its peace. No light dared venture into the darkness, no body dared dart through. It was as if the lone alley way were but a shadow of all things good and pure, the last remnants of the evils that lurked in the night, fighting stubbornly against the brightness of the day.   
  
It was surprising then, when a low crunching sound permeated through the desolate path way. A foot, treading lightly upon the bits of broken glass, of broken dreams, that littered the ground. Who dared to face the darkness alone?   
  
Ken sighed, hands jammed into his pockets, the bitter wind sweeping up his messy brown bangs. Aya…. It was as if that one word consumed him, like the kiss.   
  
It hurt to think of, it hurt to remember, and yet both he did with little reservations. How could he stop the flow of images, of feelings… it was like breathing to him, and if they stopped, he'd cease to be. Aya had kissed him, had eaten him from the inside out, consumed is very soul, and played it off as nothing more than an act. Then why? Why did he have to make it into so much more, when it was nothing to Aya? Why was he being so foolish, when all the future seemed to hold was pain?  
  
The soccer player slumped down along a red bricked wall, forgetful of everything but the ache in his heart. No longer was he in a dark alley with the smell of rotten garbage looming over head, no more was it daytime or was he alone, with bitter tears streaming down his face. He just was, lost in the corners of his own mind, floating on a river of despair.   
  
All he wanted was Aya, that's all he had ever remembered wanting. It wasn't much was it, considering all he sacrificed in his short life? He wasn't asking for the world, he wasn't asking to go back to how things once were (for to do that would mean he'd have to give up Aya in some form, since Aya wasn't his to begin with). All Ken wanted was to be loved, which was a fairly common wish amongst mankind, and yet here he was, alone perhaps for forever, in love with ice personified.  
  
It was with such heartbreaking thoughts that the shadow snuck up on him, unnoticed. His red hair, a beacon of the light in this place of darkness, warned all to keep there distance. It stood out, clashed in the void of color, a brilliant, shinning ray of the sun in the middle of the night. And yet, it went unseen by the brunette. Ken didn't hear him, didn't see the flicker of shadows, nothing. He was drowning in his own thoughts and his assassin intuition had sunk way down into those murky depths. It wasn't until the nasal voice spoke that he realized he was in danger, and by then it was too late.  
  
"Guten tag, meine katzen…." Schu whispered against Ken's ear, the warmth of the breath tickling through his hair alerted all of his senses. Shit Schu was close, too close…. Ken tried to back up but his hand slid across the sludge of rotten trash and he immediately fell back on his rear.   
  
He had done it again, hadn't he? Damn Aya! He had driven him to distraction one too many times, and this one would be it, the fatal blow. God, he was going to die, he just knew it. He was going to go a virgin and…  
  
A snide chuckle interrupted his thoughts. "That's what you think about when you face death? Well, I can help you, katzen, don't want you to have any regrets…"   
  
The red head leaned forward, thoroughly invading Ken's personal space, and enjoying every minute of it, to softly kiss along Ken's cheek. When the boy flinched the German smiled and brought his hands down to caress the still darkened cheek bone.   
  
"I'm not the red head you want, am I?" he no more asked than stated. "You want the one who did this…" again he dragged his fingers along the bruise, adding pressure to make it hurt. "Well he's coming kitten, he's coming… but I think you might be better off if he wasn't… no need to…. get him involved…."  
  
Ken choked back a furious sob. Not Ran… please God, not Ran… But, fate was and always would be a bitch because just then, as if by some cosmic cue, said red head with a comatose woman's name graced the once vacant, but now somewhat popular alley way, bestowing validity upon the telepath's statement.   
  
What would have been violet eyes, if there had been any light not eaten by the buildings, scanned the area silently. Their aqua counterparts widened as the red head walked about oblivious… he hadn't seen them yet, there was still hope. Lunging up, past the German, Ken tried in a futile effort to scream out to his comrade. His mouth moved and air passed over his larynx but nothing came out; nothing at all except a choked gasp. And so, unaware, Ran ventured further into the alley, drawn deeper into Ken's personal hell.  
  
'Is this Schu's doing?' the soccer player suddenly thought, casting his eyes on his foe warily, while his calloused fingers rubbed at his neck, as if to rub away whatever it was that was hindering his voice from coming forth. 'Is he making it so I cannot speak and so Aya keeps walking into this trap? Is that what it is… a trap for Aya? Then why use me as bait… why….'  
  
'Shhh katzen… it is just coincidence….' Shuldich's thoughts filtered across Ken's mind as if it were simply another of his own mental voices, but the feeling that came with it demanded attention and made it obvious it couldn't be just that. A strong, hard slap to the mind, stinging with every new word communicated, it definitely had that sadistic signature that was practically synonymous with the telepath. 'I just happened to be taking my dog out, and chanced upon a beautiful kitten and found myself another. I don't think my dog likes cats as much as I, though….'  
  
Brown brows furrowed, hands still working over his neck, at what the German had said. Dog? He saw no such thing. And then, like before, the undersexed, perhaps never even touched, virgin bitch, also known as fate, cocked her ugly head and another shadow appeared, stalking silently behind Aya. Ken blinked, his hands pausing but still around his neck, and let his head tilt forward with a sigh. Things just kept to continuously get worse, didn't they? The story of his life….  
  
He didn't want to watch this. He knew how it would go: They would both die and this stupid impediment to his vocal abilities would make him regret with each of these last few, precious seconds that he never voiced how he felt. He'd probably go second, holding a dying Ran in his arms while Schu laughed maniacally and stroked his "pet". Just like some stupid American drama. Great, he had to die like a damn fictional character.  
  
Schuldich snorted and shook his head, patting Ken's fluffy brown hair as he stood up. "Too clichéd, katzen…. Where's the flare? It has to be different, stylish, and fun… that's too droll for my methods!" He winked and pulled Ken up to him, trapping the smaller boy to his body.   
  
"Hey kitten… " He called flirtatiously to Ran, as he held the squirming soccer player around the waste. "Looking for this?"   
  
The red haired head snapped up, eyes narrowing, though the feeling of pure ice they radiated was more noticeable in this darkness, by the pricking of hairs on the back of the neck, than was the actual glare itself.  
  
"Schuldich…" Ran's deep voice boomed out, as his long, slender legs took him across the dampened asphalt in a matter of seconds.  
  
The splashing of his feet grew louder, across the silent alley way, telling of his nearing proximity, and then, suddenly just as it had come, it died. There was no apparent cause, to the fading of the foot falling, just the still figure standing in the shadows. But as the eyes traveled up his frozen frame, and settle upon the widened pools of violets, it was then that a cause could be deduced. For said eyes were staring, in silent horror, at the German and his prey.   
  
Ken. It had to be Ken. Of all people for Schu to taunt him with, it had to be the one he had feelings for. Confusing, stupid, distracting feelings, yes, but feelings nonetheless.   
  
Ran suddenly felt sick, a wave of terror and unsurity and near insanity taking over his frame. He didn't know what to do in this sort of situation. He didn't know how or what to feel about it. So he did what he would do if it were any teammate in trouble, he crabbed a shard of glass and dove toward his enemy.   
  
And as he dove, the cool wind tangling in his ear tales, a silent prayer being carried past to not accidentally hit Ken, he didn't see the telltale shadow of Schuldich's afore mentioned "dog" until it was too late. The knife pierced through the freckled flesh, splattering the blood of the unintended target upon the damp ground below, and with a simple, well aimed punch of the bleeding "beast", Ran was out like a light.  
  
Ken again moved to scream, but to no avail, his voice had been swallowed up by hell. And Schuldich, the self appointed lackey of Satan, laughed hysterically at his newly one prize being hefted up by what could now be seen a man with wispy green hair. He had a familiar look about him, an aura that screamed "crazy" in the way his red eyes seemed to dart everywhere with no purpose. He reminded Ken of someone, but before he could think any more on who that it was he was remembering, the world went black.   
  
TBC...  
  
Author's Babble: I tried to proof this, but if it doesn't makes sense in places, gomen... could be either A) My compy seemed to be acting up when I typed the later parts or B) Simply that it was written over a few months so it was hard to maintain the same style/feel. Ok, anyways, sorry this took so long in the making, I hope you guys liked it. I have no idea when I'll get the next part out. Gosh, all I really want to do is the ending arc, but alas.. gotta get through all this too. ^_~ Thanks for reading! 


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